


A Court of Souls and Shadows

by zara24119



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Past, Past Abuse, Reunions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:27:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28520874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zara24119/pseuds/zara24119
Summary: As Spymaster of the Night Court and one of the most powerful Illyrians to ever exist, Azriel bears the greatest secrets and terrible entities of the world of Prythian, the ever loyal subject to his High Lord. But, the shadowsinger possesses secrets of his own, carrying the burdens of a dreadful past even his precious inner circle are ignorant to. When a certain someone from his past is unexpectedly thrown into his life again, how will the guarded spymaster balance the collision of his distinct past and present worlds. This is a tale of our precious shadowsinger and his blossoming love story.
Relationships: Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Character(s), Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Female Character(s), Elain Archeron/Azriel, Elain Archeron/Lucien Vanserra, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 24
Kudos: 96





	1. The Wanderer

Josephine Devereaux stood at the edge of the precipice, a frustrated scowl etched upon her once tanned now turned ivory skin. She felt a rushing gust of icy wind brush strands of her pale, blonde hair across her frozen cheeks, much to her annoyance. The female then decided it was probably not one of her finest choices to go cliff diving in the middle of a blizzard, in the heart of Southern Illyria, yet here she stood in nothing but her undergarments, if you could even call the too small black lacy bra and underwear that, as she prepared to leap across the damn cliff, to her death apparently. It seems she may have miscalculated the severity of the weather and the amount of brain cells she possessed.

She had stripped her clothes in an attempt to cleanse her blood soaked body at a half frozen stream moments before, only to discover her thin tunic, wool lined trousers, moth eaten hooded cloak, and her favorite black combat boots had been stolen by wandering stragglers, judging by the large footprints left in tow of where she had cautiously lain her clothes out to dry, on a large rock in what she thought to be a discreet location. To her utter convenience, only her poor excuse of ghastly lace undergarments had remained for her to wear when she emerged from the freezing waters, after spending nearly fifteen minutes scrubbing her skin raw of the small cuts and large gashes littered across her mud caked skin, no doubt they would scar if her fucking healing didn’t speed up. Karma was a real bitch though Jo had learned that lesson long before in her 538 years of existence, damn she was old.

Her body was too thin from the severe lack of nutrition spending too much time in these shitty mountains, she could already feel the bruises developing from her latest endeavor involving a bar brawl with two drunk Illyrians and a very unhappy bartender, to say drunk Jo was a tad pissy and violent was a severe understatement.

If it weren’t for the thrumming power of her Amazon blood running through her veins, Jo was fairly certain she would’ve been a 5’9 piece of solid ice cube by now. Her frost ridden, bare feet were aching and if she didn’t make the jump right now, there was a high chance those damn Illyrians from the bar would catch up to her alongside the rest of their cadre, to her dismay, and she certainly would’ve kicked those bastards’ assess if it weren’t for the unwanted attention it would bring, especially from a certain someone who lived in this very court she was trying hard not to encounter. Her thoughts were disrupted when she detected thundering footsteps and a number of angry voices headed straight towards her.

“Where the hell did the bitch go?” a deep voice demanded.

“Are you sure it was a female Lionel?” another voice replied, irritably, “they were wearing a hood for god's sake.”

“Fuck yeah it was, now shut your damn mouth Irin and drag her ass here before Devlon realizes we’re gone,” the male named Lionel thundered, a trace of fear leeched into his tone.

“Look there she is!” another voice yelled, pointing directly towards a half naked Jo still standing at the precipice, with what looked like a severely sharp steel blade and another hand resting at a dagger on his hip.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Jo muttered to herself, she had to jump right now before the brutes brought her to the infamous camp lord, now that was a reunion that never needed to happen and would definitely blow her identity.

“Stop right there you disgraceful whore,” the one named Lionel threatened, one hand now applying pressure with a rag on the oozing gash Jo sliced on his neck at the bar brawl earlier for trying to grab her ass, not close enough to his carotid to cause any real damage but enough to piss him off that’s for sure.

With her back still facing the male, Jo slowly turned her face, a feline smirk graced her features as she held a vulgar gesture towards the bloodthirsty males, “Peace out motherfuckers!” she yelled as she leaped from the cliff and made the 80 foot drop to her apparent death.

She fell with a crack on a thick blanket of snow covered ground, after what felt like hours of free falling. Jo was slowly losing consciousness, but that didn’t stop the loud crunch that rippled through her ears, her ass bones were definitely broken, that much she could tell and she couldn’t move, at all, not even a damn inch. She observed her surroundings with a steady eye trying to decipher where she was. Appearing to have landed in the goddamn middle of nowhere, she gave up trying to register where she was as miles of snow-capped mountains and frozen tundra came into view.

“Fan fucking tastic,” Jo groaned as another wave of nausea hit her, at least the snow provided some semblance of protection, though hypothermia was a whole nother issue. 

Her eyes started to droop as she felt her pounding head slowly cease to a halt, her paralyzed body rapidly numbing as she let the darkness take her completely, but not before feeling a familiar pair of scarred hands pulling her close.


	2. The Spymaster

Azriel stood inside his secluded little house, although it was really the size of a cabin, resembling the inner circle’s one in the Illyrian Mountains. Located at the western edge of Velaris and hidden from any by-passers by the roaring waterfall that eventually merged with the Sidra River, Azriel’s house was his personal safe haven, unbeknownst to anyone except Elain, who occasionally watered his plants when he traveled to the mountains for missions, and one other person whom was long gone or so he believed to be true. 

Gazing out the tiny window that rested above the small kitchen space he currently stood from, Azriel gradually sipped on a glass of brandy, his preferred drink, as he watched the glistening drops of snow flurries drop from above, tainting the window with beads of frost. Winter in Velaris was truly a sight to behold, the entire city would slowly be covered in a blanket of snow, stark against the colorful buildings and streets of the city of lights. Citizens would be bundled up in thick layers of warm clothing to protect against the harsh weather as children would build snow creatures and sled down icy lanes, utmost happiness evident on their innocent faces. Fires would be lit in every house to keep from chilly temperatures, leaving chimney smoke floating into the icy air. 

Winter was a special kind of season, one capable of leaving unconditional joy yet all Azriel felt was sorrow. He couldn’t describe it but for the past few months feelings of contempt and misery mixed with ropes of anxiety filled his mind, which was to be expected after war but Azriel had never felt so indifferent before especially since the rest of the inner circle were carrying out with their everyday lives, recovering from the aftermaths of the treacherous war that took a toll on the entire court and its subjects. 

Rhys and Feyre solely devoted themselves in restructuring the court with all their time spent in rebuilding Velaris after the dreadful disasters that littered the once elegant city with ash and destruction, but the pair had each other to seek comfort and collectively progress forward, their love and indestructible bond guiding them through it all. Cassian had been busy in the Steppes and went traveling to various War Camps with the eldest Lady Archeron after the disastrous intervention with Feyre banishing her to the Illyrian Mountains, but it seemed to work out eventually with Nesta aiding Cassian in training females, much to Devlon’s dismay, and overseeing everyday Illyrian activities to prevent any potential civil outbursts. 

And then there was Mor, the female everyone seemed to believe he was in love with. He suspected she preferred females for decades, his shadows confirming his thoughts a long time ago at a night in Rita’s, though Mor didn’t think he knew. It was complicated what he felt for the beautiful female but he knew it wasn’t the kind of love Rhys felt for Feyre or what he suspected Cassian felt for Nesta. Instead, Azriel was grateful for his budding friendship with Elain, whose quiet demeanor and sweet nature calmed him. He didn’t mind her company when he would aid her with her gardens, it was almost like a stress reliever after the newfound nightmares that had plagued his sleep these past months would leave him shaken, though he never showed it. He pushed through, not wanting to burden his family with his unruly frights. The shadowsinger carried on with his missions at the command of his High Lady and Lord, journeying occasionally for potential threats and revelations to report from his various spies. He convinced himself that life continued after war, there was no need for unnecessary drama over strange nightmares, after all what was another one to his ever growing collection.

Azriel continued to silently gaze upon the mass of hurtling flurries, much like the ones he would see glimpses of in his dreams, alongside flashes of blood and what appeared to be blonde hair he guessed, when suddenly he felt dark talons lightly brush his mind.

_Where are you brother, everyone is already at the estate._

Rhysand’s voice filled his mind as Azriel instantly glanced at the clock, realizing the time, he stretched his wings as he hurried out the small house. He took off in flight at an incredibly fast pace, he’d lost track of time and was supposed to be at the housewarming dinner for the newly finished River Estate Rhys had gifted Feyre for last Winter solstice, which his Highly Lady had flawlessly designed no doubt. 

He landed in the wide, ivy reigned terrace with a large thump, shadows flurrying around him at his peaked anxiety of arriving late, proceeding to dust off his snow ridden boots before entering through the unlocked entrance of the gorgeous estate. Just as he predicted Feyre had outdone herself with its beauty. The residence looked to be three stories high, with small balconies adorning each story, fairy lights strung against the railings to provide for a welcoming vision. He spotted a grand space filled with the night court’s signature flowers and an array of vines climbing the walls of the house to give a very furnished feel, Elain’s handiwork most likely. 

His footsteps padded silently through the foyer before turning towards the sounds of bright laughter and string of curse words that followed. Azriel took in the scene before him; Mor sat with her legs stretched across Cassian’s lap, both of whom were casually lounging on the ruby loveseat with glasses of wine filled to the brim in hand, of course. Nesta sat quietly in the corner watching the pair with cold eyes, the rest of the inner circle casually sitting in various locations around the large den. Feyre, perched in Rhys’ lap per usual, rushed in greeting as she noticed Azriel by the entrance.

“Az finally, I’m so happy you’re here,” Feyre gushed brightly as she enveloped him in a hug, “is everything alright?” she continued with concern as she took in Azriel’s disheveled manner and the rapid movements of his shadows swirling tightly. Azriel stiffened at the contact and Feyre quickly let go.

“Yes I’m perfectly fine apologies my lady I’d lost track of time,” he immediately replied, attempting to plaster a small smile on his face to ease the tension evident in Feyre’s obviously concerned face.

Mistaking his disheveled manner for something else entirely, Cassian asked pointedly, “Lost track of time doing what brother,” wiggling his eyebrows at the spymaster suggestively, a smirk forming on his face.

Before Azriel could reply Mor grumbled, “Oh who the fuck cares you pig he’s here now and I’m fucking starving.”

Rhys chuckled at the pair and gestured to the circle to make their way into the adjoining dining room. Elain waved shyly before standing up at her seat beside Nesta and Az nodded his head in greeting. He noticed flour coated her smock as she made her way to sit beside him at the stretched, wooden dining table.

“Have you helped prepare dinner,” Azriel asked Elain patiently, at an attempt to soothe a still concerned looking Feyre by making small talk, though the spymaster was never one for that.

“Oh um yeah just a little, Nuala and Cerridwen did most of it I just helped a little,” she replied nervously, a slight blush on her cheeks forming whilst fiddling with her fingers against her dress. Noticing this, Nesta gave Azriel a warning glare, though he didn’t know why and Mor winked at him.

Amren sat herself at the head of the table as Rhysand snapped his fingers and a vast array of dishes appeared spread across the expanse of the wooden table. 

“Oh shit this looks fucking good,” Cassian immediately exclaimed, piling an assortment of foods from pumpkin pie to roasted chicken on his plate, while also chewing on what resembled a lamb leg coated in chili sauce in one hand. Everyone watched with amusement as Nesta, who sat opposite of the Illyrian, made a face of disgust.

“Whatcha looking at sweetheart,” Cassian grinned at the female, “you know the food isn’t the only thing that looks delicious.”

Mor choked on her wine as Rhysand failed to hide his grin, Elain suddenly finding her fork very interesting to observe. Azriel simply stared, trying to reflect their emotions.

“Once a pig, always a pig you brute,” Nesta spit out, her unsettling gaze remaining on Az’s poor brother.

“Okay!” Feyre interrupted abruptly, not wanting to cause another outburst, apparently nothing had changed much between the two despite their progressive work partnership in Illyria. 

“I wanted to thank all of you for coming here today, I know it’s been a tough year rebuilding after the war. I’m so grateful for this family,” she looked lovingly at her mate and everyone at the table, “...and I want this space to be a home for all of you to show just how much you all mean to me,” she finished tearily. Everyone nodded their heads, bright smiles on their faces as they gazed upon their adorable High Lady, who never ceased to shower everyone with her kindness. Even Amren seemed to place a small smile across her lips at Feyre’s words.

Conversations flittered as food was eaten and drinks were poured relentlessly. Azriel beheld the sight of his family finally at peace, yet he couldn’t mirror the same joy that seemed to be radiating from everyone but him. A sharp tug near his heart distracted him from his thoughts, which started happening frequently these past months, though Az simply put it off as a result from his war injuries. He felt Rhys’ stare from the other side of the table as the shadowsinger let out a small hiss at the discomfort, thankfully no one else seemed to have noticed. Az quickly recovered and engaged in conversation with Elain who he noticed was shyly glancing at him throughout the dinner, her cheeks flushed.

_Odd, I wonder if she’s alright._

“Az what’s wrong,” Rhys asked pointedly, gaining the attention of the entire table as conversations halted.

__

“Nothing brother, I’m just tired is all,” he replied politely, with a reassuring nod.

__

Rhys and Feyre exchanged a strange look, no doubt talking through their bond.

__

“Fuck, I’m beat too,” Cassian groaned, clueless to the tension surrounding the room between the court spymaster and the High Lord and Lady as he let out a long yawn and stretched out of his seat and everyone followed suit, all stuffed from the delicious food. Azriel released a long sigh and had never been grateful for his ignorant brother in that moment as he had now. 

__

Feyre showed everyone to their respective rooms in the grand estate as the circle retired for the evening, but stopped short alongside her mate when Azriel was the only one left, after Elain had bid him goodnight.

__

“Rhys and I are concerned about you Az, it’s like you're present but not really here,” Feyre directly stated to him once Elain was out of earshot.

__

“Don’t worry Feyre, really, there’s nothing wrong I’m fine,” Azriel tried to convince her before Rhys interrupted.

__

“We just haven’t heard from you as much and it’s not like you to be late,” he stated with raised eyebrows, “and there’s a situation we need you to investigate in Windhaven but if you’re not feeling alright you need to tell us.”

__

Azriel stared at the pair for a moment with a concerned look before replying, “What’s happened, I can leave there right now!” 

__

“NO!” Feyre instantly shouted, “I mean, please stay the night and go tomorrow if you must. There’s been reports of a rogue figure inhabiting the mountains and causing unrest in southern Illyria, near the Windhaven camps. It could be nothing, you know how Devlon is, always complaining about something to distract us from his cruel way of running camp. I would send Cassian but it needs to be discreet, we need intel on the situation in case the threat poses to be something bigger, we cannot afford anymore disturbances,” Feyre stressed as Rhys wrapped a hand around the small of her back in comfort. 

__

The spymaster knew everyone had been on high alert, anxious of turmoil from the aftermaths of the war after hundreds of Illyrians returned with injuries, though most didn’t return at all.

__

“Of course my Lady, I will leave at first light,” Azriel promised.

__

“Please get some rest and only go if it you can,” Feyre pleaded, “we don’t see much of you and if it’s too much stress we can figure another way,” she continued though knowing full well Azriel would never turn down a chance to investigate a threat, even if it cost him his life.

__

Azriel simply bowed his head and gently replied, “Goodnight my Lady.”

__

Feyre led him to a room on the far end of the third floor, his siphons illuminating the dark corridor as he entered the high ceilinged room. It was truly perfect, Feyre had designed it to his exact tastes, dark wood and a deep blue duvet covered bed, large enough to accommodate his wings, sat in the middle with high posts. A chest sat at the end of the room, connecting to a large chamber for bathing he guessed. Feyre left the room before he could thank her. He stripped off his Illyrian leathers and kicked his boots, too tired to bathe, before slipping under the soft covers. As he closed his eyes, he glimpsed flashes of snow, a running stream, and piercing gold eyes that looked so familiar but the shadowsinger couldn’t make sense of it as sleep claimed him for another restless night.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a longer chapter, it's just sort of a filler but the good stuff is coming! Please let me know your thoughts and comments/kudos are always appreciated!


	3. The Guard

Azriel’s shadows swirled vividly in circles around their master’s sleeping body, as though in some sort of heightened frenzy, whispering again and again those three phrases. 

_Wake up Master. Friend. Danger. Wake up Master. Friend. Danger. Wake up Master!_

The shadowsinger woke with a start, a disgruntled gasp left his lips as the piercing whispers of his shadows wracked his mind in warning, never had they been in this state not since...

He immediately grabbed Truth Teller from under his pillow as he kept it every night, always keeping his precious blade within arms reach for dire situations, and rushed out of his bedchamber clad in only a pair of smooth, linen pants. At the sound of a female scream followed by another shriek, he sprinted down the spiral staircase and burst through the foyer, wings flared and Truth Teller raised high.

The entire room fell silent as Azriel took in the scene before him. Elain was covered head-to-toe in what appeared to be soil with several pieces of azaleas stuck around her half braided hair, holding a small creature. Nesta stood at the far end of the room, a slight smile on her face as she watched Elain with the animal, with a book in hand and a cup of tea in the other. The two Archerons glanced up at the commotion in the doorway in confusion, noticing Azriel standing still in an offensive stance with his sword raised.

“Azriel!” Elain exclaimed turning around to face him, “look who decided to come visit," as she raised the small creature who was actually a little fawn. It was no more than the size of a pillow and its round doe eyes, so similar to Elain’s, met his own hazel ones in curiosity at the shadows still swirling rapidly around him. Noticing his stance she questioned, “What’s happened, are you alright?” and then her eyes widened as she took in a very shirtless Azriel.

Turning a very deep shade of scarlet after staring for a second too long to be just a glance, she quickly turned back around and gazed lovingly at the fawn in her arms. Nesta observed her reaction and immediately sauntered closer to Elain, standing guard as though Azriel had come to harm her. The protective female still didn’t trust the spymaster’s so-called friendship with her innocent baby sister.

At that moment, Feyre walked in, still in her silky nightgown, with Rhysand trailing after her, a hand on her back. 

“What’s going on here,” she questioned, her eyes roaming from a stony faced Nesta still standing front of Elain to the fawn in her arms and finally to Azriel standing a few feet away from the door, quickly recovering from his initial shock of there not being a threat and readjusting his stance and tucking his sword away. 

“I-uh I heard noises and thought something happened,” Azriel uncomfortably answered his High Lady, lowering his wings which were close to hitting the ceiling, its size larger than normal Illyrian standards.

“Oh!” Elain gasped suddenly in realization, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to worry you, this little guy just came right through the door as I finished watering the gardens and it surprised Nesta and I was all, but look how cute!” The female continued to make adoring faces at the animal, gently scratching its soft fur as it nuzzled further into her arms, all while sitting on the ground covered in soil, mud, and crushed flowers. 

Feyre’s face softened at the bond between her sister and the fawn and Rhys chuckled behind her, an amused glance took over his face as he looked at the half naked Azriel, “Always on his guard my brother.”

Azriel shifted uncomfortably again, shadows circling tighter around him as he faced his High Lord and Lady, “I’ll be leaving to the camps now, I’m already behind my intended leave,” acknowledging their conversation from the previous night.

“You’re leaving?” Elain looked up suddenly, her big, brown eyes widened at Azriel in confusion.

_Was that a hint of sadness he saw?_

“There is a situation that calls for my attention, I will be back soon my Lady,” Azriel replied emotionlessly before slightly bowing his head and turning towards the exit. Nesta paid no attention to him, she simply stared at her book and put a hand around Elain’s shoulders in assurance he assumed. 

Rhysand appeared to be smirking at his interaction with the middle Archeron but Azriel didn’t make anything of it as he bid Feyre goodbye and promised to return soon with more information about the rogue in Illyria.

_Master! Friend. Danger. Master! Friend. Danger. Master!_

On his way through the corridor Azriel’s shadows never ceased their whispering. He grew frustrated, they’d never been wrong but there was no threat, no one was in danger.

 _WHO IS IN DANGER_ , he questioned silently to them, annoyance overtaking his usual calm demeanor as the ever growing frenzy of his shadows took over once again. No reply came, only the same chanting. He huffed a breath as he ordered his shadows to start their trek to Illyria, only a few smaller ones remained swirling around his ankles and the tips of his wings. 

Once he reached his chambers, he traded his linen pants for his usual leathers and strapped an assortment of blades along his chest, thighs, and arms. Azriel usually only bore Truth Teller but without any background information on the rogue threat he had to prepare for anything, especially if Devlon and Windhaven was somehow involved. He walked to the far corner of the room, which opened to a smaller outdoor balcony with small lights twinkling, as though placed to imitate the stars of the night sky. Slipping an overcoat and cloak over his leather, he stretched his wings and took off from the balcony making flight for Windhaven.

Flying was like breathing to him, after being deprived of his wings in that cauldron forsaken cell as a boy, he treasured his wings. More sensitive than then most Illyrians, he never let anyone touch them or venture close, constantly having his shadows covering them. 

As Azriel soared through the sky, over the city of Velaris and into the Steppes territory, he let his thoughts wander before hitting rough, icy terrain.

The winds were strong today, the sun was close to setting and Azriel could hear the thundering whistle of trees and animals wailing at the harsh weather.

 _Blizzard_ , came the warning from the shadows that were waiting for their Master’s appearance in Illyria. 

He hiked along the path of the open valley space he had landed upon, careful to erase any trace of his footsteps in the blanket of snow that masked the sound of his footsteps, except for the occasional crunch of ice he walked upon. 

_Master! Friend. Danger. Help. Master! Friend. Danger!_

The swarm of shadows gave their warning again without any other direction, when suddenly he felt a sharp tug at his heart, stronger than usual ones that he knew couldn't be from pain. It was something else entirely, something he hadn’t felt in 500 years.

_No, it can’t be her. It’s not possible._

The second he spotted a lone figure that laid at a twisted angle on its back amidst the snow, he immediately broke off into a run, his shadows coiling and poised, not because they thought it was a threat, but because they knew who the figure was to a still oblivious Azriel.

Azriel knew the minute he reached the figure that this was who his shadows were warning him about.

_But they had said friend, who was this?_

Azriel crouched down and realized it was a female, a very naked female barely covered by ripped, lacy undergarments, her skin blending into the snow, turning blue from the cold. 

_Nadir_ , the shadows whispered, _Nadir, Nadir, Nadir, Nadir_ , they chanted into his ears, as if it was a mantra.

The minute the name was whispered, Azriel froze in shock. That name. He hadn’t heard that name in 500 years. He couldn’t breathe as realization adorned his sharp face. It was then that he took in the beautifully unique face of the stranger, the pale blonde hair that fell down to her back and framed her face, the dark, furrowed brows and lashes, the scars that adorned her body, and the rounded ears. Azriel was in a trance. He ripped off his cloak and overcoat, wrapping it around the body of the female as he protectively held her close to him, holding on to her as if she was the only thing keeping him from flowing away into nothingness.

_Protect. Protect. Protect._

He whimpered in pure pain at the sight of the female, the female who he never thought he would ever see again, not since Rhys’ father Orion took her away from him. The shadowsinger went numb as memories over-flooded his head in disbelief. Azriel forgot his surroundings, forgot his mission, his purpose, anything else that wasn’t the female he was holding tightly, he forgot.

He stretched his wings and took off in flight back to Velaris, not caring about his mission. Azriel landed in his secluded house on the edge of Velaris, the female still tightly in his arms as he held her frozen body as gently as possible, not wanting to hurt her. 

He sent his shadows to call for Madja as he burst through his small doorway, straight into his tiny room, that was barely enough to fit three people. He lay her thin body, _her too thin body_ on his angular bed and covered her in blankets upon blankets, as much as he could muster in an attempt to warm her before hypothermia set in. Her body didn’t seem to be healing itself and he didn’t know how long she had been laying in the snow before he’d found her.

Azriel only left the female’s side to start the fire at the entrance of the room, “Please be alright, please, Cauldron, please,” he pleaded to whatever God would listen. In that moment he felt so vulnerable that he was glad no one was there to witness it, never had he let anyone see himself this way, no one except, _her_. The pain he felt that night 500 years ago came rushing back and he was struck in agony at the thought of her being harmed, _his Josie_.

 _No, she wasn’t his, she didn’t belong to anyone_ , he scolded himself silently. 

His shadows mirrored the frantic behavior of their master as they moved in hysteria, rushing to the female’s side, just as they had when he first found her. Azriel watched them swirl around her in a daze, as though she too called to them. 

The sharp raps of his door snapped him out of his trance as he rushed to the doorway and was greeted by a wide eyed, confused looking Madja who had now noticed the female surrounded by his shadows that slept peacefully on the bed.

A gasp left her lips as realization donned the healer. “It can't be,” she whispered in disbelief, “ _The Nadir_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be their interaction, I can't wait for you guys to hear their story. Comments and kudos always appreciated!


	4. The Rogue

_Josephine descended down the grand, spiral staircase of Hewn City, making her way to the throne room. Her feet padded silently as she reached the bottom of the stairway and made a sharp turn into the dimly lit corridor. She could barely breathe with the silk bandana covering the lower half of her face, leaving room only for her eyes to be seen but she was used to the suffocating mask._

_A midnight cloak covered the rest of her body, its hood drawn atop her head as low as possible, further concealing her identity from any onlookers. As she neared the obsidian double doors to the main room, she instantly shifted her hand to her hip where her precious sword, her most prized possession was sheathed, its cold bronze seeping through her thin trousers to her bare thigh, sending chills up her spine._

_At the sight of the tiny figure clothed in all black approaching, the two bulky guards that stood watch upon the entrance quickly straightened their backs and shoved away their flasks, all of which didn’t miss Jo’s watchful gaze._

_When they recognized the unsettling gold eyes that looked up eerily at the pair, each swung a side of the heavy plated doors open, she swore the two males cowered slightly as she made her way past them and through the gateway._

_Good, they should fear her, she thought._

_The room that was otherwise filled with courtiers, jesters, and various members of the Court of Nightmares was empty, except for three figures that watched her blankly, as she made her way to the single throne that sat in the center at the very far end of the room._

_She straightened her back and lifted her chin, just as she was taught, letting her bandana covering and hood drop with a tug of her hand as she willed her fully visible face into an emotionless mask. When she approached the steps of the throne, she dropped on one knee into a smooth bow, drooping her head and clasping both hands together to settle atop her raised knee as she spoke._

_“You’ve summoned, Master.”_

_“Rise,” was all the answer she received from the cold, cruel voice that spoke the word._

_Jo slowly rose from her position with a hand back to resting at her sword, it always provided her comfort under this terrifying mountain. She never understood how her High Lord and his inhabitants fathomed living in such a horrifying city, but she never let the fear control her or be known to others. No, she was far too proud for that._

_She raised her head and her eyes met piercing violet ones, whose vicious owner was seated in the obsidian throne, a crown made of dark blue gems and black thorns sat atop his head of midnight blue hair._

_“I have summoned you my Nadir, because I have a mission for you,” the High Lord of the Night Court announced greedily, a hint of anticipation in his tone as he clarified, “a very important mission.”_

_Interesting._

_Jo struggled with willing herself to remain unfazed at the statement, she’d been waiting impatiently for weeks for another mission. Instead she’d been forced to spend her time training ruthlessly with her Master’s most trusted advisor, the tall male who stood on the left of the throne gazing at her with curious brown eyes._

_There were only four people that knew of her identity, three of whom stood in the very room she was in. The third figure dressed promptly in a black suit simply looked at her as though she weren’t worth the dirt beneath his feet, a frown etched upon his face, though he was the one that stood at the bottom of the staircase, a much lower position from where Jo stood on the third level. He served as the steward to the High Lord in Hewn City, that much she knew, but nothing else, other than he always seemed to despise her presence._

_“Is that why you’d had Zaran practically torturing my body these past weeks,” she inquired with slight accusation._

_“Watch your tongue girl,” her Master Orion’s sharp voice warned as he slammed his fist and Jo shivered as she felt the thrum of power that flickered through the room at his annoyance, “but yes it was to make sure you’re ready, I need you at your best, little wolf.”_

_“I’m honored High Lord,” she replied with as much politeness as she could muster, not wanting his temper to flare, her back was barely recovering from the last time. She really had to watch her mouth before something else spit out._

_Unfazed by her words, the High Lord continued with the resting cold voice of his, “There is another like you.”_

_Jo’s ear perked up at this. “Another, like me?” she asked while raising her dark brows in question. She obeyed her Master, no matter how cruel the deed, she learned long ago not to question him, her body knew too well of the consequence. But she didn’t know if she could fathom killing someone like her. After all she still had some semblance of honor left, no matter how twisted the rest of her was._

_“Yes, another half breed of your kind,” he replied curtly. As though reading her thoughts Orion further emphasized, “You are not to kill, all I want is for you to study the target, its powers, capabilities, and find a way to bring it to me with discretion. Fake its death if you must but no one must know of its disappearance, especially Lord Byron and his family.”_

_Lord Byron? What did the Illyrian Lord have to do with the target?_

_Jo knew better than to ask why he couldn’t do it himself, powerful as the high fae male was. There must be an outlying factor, one that needed her skills. Being the High Lord’s personal assassin was not an easy task, especially seeing as she was ten years of age, but who would suspect a child to be doing Orion’s dirty work. Assassin was her title, though slave seemed a more appropriate term._

_Jo long ago stopped caring what cruel endeavors her Master made her do, but there was another like her! For the first time in forever, she felt hope and a sense of longing for whoever it was that waited. She’d spent her entire life alone, her bloodline deeming her the only one of its kind, but no more._

_There was another and for a second she did something she had never thought she was capable of doing, not after so many years spent under his command, she hesitated..._

_She hesitated before answering her Master, suddenly feeling a sense of protectiveness, not wanting the target to face whatever Orion had in mind for it. Nothing good ever came from being wanted by the vicious High Lord, especially as she saw the heavy look of greed cross his rigid face._

_“As you wish Master,” Jo forced the words from her lips, bowing her head to hide her apprehensive face, when suddenly Orion gripped her throat tightly with his cold, pale hands and brought her so she was a mere three inches from his face. His swirling violet eyes met her blazing gold ones as she looked him straight in the eyes, she would not cower._

_“The target is in Lord Byron’s tower, in Eastern Illyria,” Orion informed her before sneering, “do not mess this up for me Nadir, you have two months to free the target and bring it to me. You will send weekly reports on its status and should you miss a week or not return, I will kill you.” She felt black, adamant claws press sharply into her mind in warning before he released her throat roughly and Jo stumbled backwards at the sheer force._

_She knew he wouldn’t really kill her, she was far too valuable of an asset, but hell, death would be mercy to whatever he had planned if she disobeyed, judging by the stakes at hand of this mission._

_With a snap of his fingers, her torn tunic and pants were replaced with a sleek, black suit, strapped with knives of every size across her abdomen and even more hidden in every nook and cranny. Her silk bandana was replaced back onto her face and a different, fur lined cloak was draped over her pale blond strands of hair, covering her body from head to the ankles of her familiar tall, Illyrian made leather boots._

_“Take your leave at once Nadir,” Orion demanded, the ever-chilling voice of a High Lord creeping into his tone. And with that Josephine journeyed into the silent night, not realizing her fate would change forever the minute she set foot for Illyria, at what awaited her in a lonely, dark cell._

_______

Josephine stirred as she started to regain consciousness. She woke with a start, confused as to where she was, until she took in the vaguely familiar bedroom she was in. She looked down to see she was wearing a plain black shirt that fell to her knees, the only thing covering her thin frame which was piled upon by heaps of soft, woolen blankets. 

She quickly removed the blankets and shrugged out of the thin, black sheets, staring at her clean body. Someone had cleaned the wounds and dressed them in bandages, though only the fresh cuts from the bar were visible.

_At least the glamour held._

Her head pounded and her body ached sorely, but she’d had the best sleep in months. Wherever she was, she needed to get out soon before someone recognized her. She noticed both her feet were covered in thick gauze and medical tape around the ankles, wrapping halfway up her calf.

_Well shit, how the hell am I supposed to walk._

Jo knew she couldn’t winnow, her speed healing had obviously not kicked in and she was too weak to access her powers. She threw her feet on the ground by twisting her hips and forcing her feet off the bed. She counted to three before hauling herself up, halfway in midair when heavy footsteps thudded and the door burst open. Before she fell flat on the ground, her shirt riding up to her thighs, strong, scarred hands grabbed her hips from behind, and pulled her close.

The scent hit her before she could react, night mist and cedar filled her nostrils and she flinched visibly at the overpowering scent. That scent she’d come to understand was her favorite smell in the world. It was then that she understood whose shirt she wore, whose room she was in, what house.

_Shit, shit, shit, no she couldn’t be here, she had to leave._

For that scent could only mean one thing, the one person she was trying to avoid in this goddamned city. Jo froze at the touch and looked at the hands that covered her waist, her heart thundering out of her chest.

Slowly, so slowly she faced the inevitable and turned around. Her eyes traveled from the bare, muscular chest of warrior tattoos she wanted so badly to reach out and trace, to the tan, elegant face of the male that stood before her. She took in the sharp planes of his face, those high cheekbones, before her eyes met the swirling eyes of light green and amber. She couldn’t move, she was fairly certain she was in a daze as she simply stared into those mesmerizing hazel eyes, and they too stared into her thrilling gold ones, as though they could see straight through her soul.

Then she felt something deep in her bones, her blood singing and power thrumming, that seemed to snap her out of her trance as she whispered so softly that name she couldn’t bear to speak for 500 years, “Azriel.”

“Josie,” came the smooth reply, filled with heartbreaking emotion as his voice cracked. She shivered at the voice that had once filled her dreams and now her nightmares. Forgetting everything, she relaxed into his touch and started to lift her hands...

_Stop it Jo, you have to leave, you cannot be here._

Realizing what she was doing, what was at stake if she stayed here with _him_ , she dropped her hands to her side and instantly her voice turned cold, her face masked into an emotionless stare, “Let me go right now! I have to leave!”

In a blink of an eye, those soft features turned cold, eyes hardened into an expression she knew all too well.

“500 years and that’s all you have to say to me,” Azriel spat out viciously, brows furrowing in anger, and hurt?

_No, don’t look at me like that, hold me closer, she wanted to say._

“Yes,” Jo stated flatly. She tried not to flinch at the harsh tone of his voice before yelling, “Now get the fuck off of me and bring me back to Illyria, right fucking now!”

A flash of realization seemed to cross his face as he replied in an equally angry tone, “You’re the rogue.” He scoffed loudly, “of course you are, you disappear without a trace and now you act as though nothing happened, as though I haven’t seen you in five fucking centuries!”

“Typical Jo, you’re not going anywhere,” he continued curtly, “you’re wounded and causing unnecessary trouble for my High Lady and the Night Court itself. I don’t even want to know what you were doing. You’re staying here whether you like it or not.”

_His High Lady? What the fuck._

Frustration burst through her. “You CANNOT control me, I will leave as I please, now let go of me!”

“Oh I know that _Nadir_ ,” he spit the name out harshly, all signs of warmth she saw earlier left his face as the cold stare rested in anger. “You will stay here until I figure out what to do with you, it’s either here or a cell so don’t even try to leave because I will find you.”

At that he laid her on the bed, without so much as a glance at her and before she could reply, he slammed the door shut with obvious annoyance, and disappeared out of the house.

Jo grunted in frustration. _How dare he speak to her that way, as though she were a mere child!_ She had never felt so utterly useless at her weak body, otherwise she would’ve gotten the hell out of here without so much as a whisper. _whispers_. She stared at the few shadows that swirled around her ankles, their presence a comfort she never knew how much she’d missed all those years away.

That was definitely not how she imagined her reunion with Azriel to go. She couldn’t help but sigh at the memory of seeing him again. He’d always been beautiful, the kind of classic beauty that was so rare, she’d never met anyone like him. He'd grown so much since the boy she last saw. He had such defined muscles and scars that littered his body and wings. His eyes held such knowledge, as though he grew more wiser and powerful everyday. He was tall too, cascading above her already tall figure by at least five inches she guessed. Azriel was handsome, she'd always knew he'd grow up to be handsome, but she never realized how much she would miss him, until he was truly gone from her life. But truth was, she didn't know him just as he didn't know her. They were two different people set on two different paths, no longer moving in synch as they once were. A part of her was glad at his resentment, he seemed to hate her now.

_Good, it’s safer this way._

Something triggered feeling back in her legs, snapping her out of her thoughts. She tried to get up once again and managed to balance herself, holding the wooden posts of the bed for support.

She attempted to walk when suddenly she heard the front door of the house open, followed by light footsteps and soft, bright humming.

_Shit, she was in such shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks have officially started (they're important for revealing Jo and Az's past together so I wouldn't skip them) and the angst begins! And if it wasn't clear, Jo was ten years old in the flashback. Let me know your thoughts, comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	5. The Boy in the Cell

__  
Josephine Devereaux scaled the high tower and clung to the four pieces of bricks she’d loosened a week ago upon her arrival to Eastern Illyria, where the infamous Illyrian Lord Byron lived with his two sons and spoiled bitch of a wife, from what she’d gathered.  


_ She’d spent her first week studying the environment, the villagers, just as she did during every mission to the point where it’d become a sort of ritual.  _

_ From drunk fools to posh gossipers, Jo listened to their every word and pooled together information about the notorious family of Illyrians that lived in the large mansion, connected to the tower through a small passage, and what exactly lived in the tower she was currently clinging onto dear life for.  _

_ The cauldron, it seemed, wanted to make her life more of a living hell than it already was by sprinkling sleet over every damn crevice.  _

_ Her fingers had nearly frozen off, the leather gloves she wore freezing her hands off more than keeping it warm. But yet she held on, her tiny, dark figure remaining unseen in the pitch black night sky.  _

_ Jo forced her chattering teeth shut, afraid even the smallest of noise would wake the bulky watchmen that stood guard over the tower. Though she was convinced he only did his job when Lord Byron was looking, judging by the fact that she’d slipped past his view for these past days. _

_ She’d heard all sorts of whispers about what lived in the tower, the reasons why it was put in there. From rabid animal to blood sucking demon, she’d heard it all. Whatever it was, she could feel its power thrumming through the walls. _

_ When Jo first arrived she’d found that there were no windows, only solid brick cast to the brim with enchantments and wards, all of which she managed to crack within the span of five minutes. But she soon realized that there were no windows to break through and the bricks were coated in high doses of faebane, poisonous to both Illyrians and fae alike. Jo’s bloodline, she found years ago, proved her immune, which explained why Orion specifically needed her skills for this task. She’d trained as a spy throughout years with Orion, but he only primarily used her assassination skills for missions, he had real spies for other courtly matters. _

_ Jo’s powers allowed her to seep through any solid barrier, as though she were mere air traveling through the in-between, though different from winnowing which she could also do. From what she overheard from Orion, no one else had her ability and her powers knew no extent, which was why thin, solid magical bands of iron cuffs were wrapped tightly around each wrist respectively, acting as both a siphon and a collar courtesy of Orion, ensuring she would never gain the upper hand should she ever try to overpower him.  _

_ It’s not like she could fly off. Even though she was half Illyrian, she wasn’t born with wings, her other half Amazon blood was dominant in that sense. But Orion always kept his assets close and for her it was through iron cuffs, the only substance that weakened her Amazon blood. _

_ She’d had them on her wrists for as long as she could remember, as though her master needed reassurance that she would never betray him, his precious Nadir, by keeping her leashed like a dog. _

_ It was the end of her first week and she still hadn’t gotten enough intel to report to Orion, whatever she had would only cross him if he found out it was all gossip. This proved to be a tougher mission than she thought, but she convinced herself it was nothing she couldn’t handle. _

_ She went against her every instinct and decided to skip the useless information of the streets and get it directly from the source itself, thus her frozen position on the bricked cylinder building.  _

_ She planned to enter the tower tonight! _

_ Jo braced herself, still clutching onto the icy bricks as she held herself upright. She’d never attempted to ghost travel, as she called it, under such harsh magic and wards. Although the faebane poison was diluted and not fatal to her health, it still flowed through her blood, ever lightly weakening her magic by just a touch due to her Illyrian bloodline. _

_ She shut her eyes in concentration, one hand holding her bronze sword ready to attack whatever creature was behind the brick-walls, and the other tightly willing the magic to her fingertips. She felt her magic flow through her veins with a rush of adrenaline, desperate to free itself from her body. Jo prepared herself physically and mentally for what awaited her and with a final push, she emerged inside of the tower. _

_ Whatever gruesome creature she’d expected, it was not what her line of vision was seeing. For there in the far back of the dark cell she stood in with her sword raised high, crouched a small boy, a pale, sickly boy who looked no older than her ten years of age. Huge, limp Illyrian wings emerged from his back, wrapping around his thin frame. A mop of loose, black curls spilled across his forehead and his eyes were shut tightly, his hands tightly clutching over his ears. _

_ But that wasn’t all that intrigued Jo. Surrounding the boy was what appeared to be flying black wisps swirling around him in rapid circles, as though in a frenzy.  _

_ Were those shadows? _

_ There was only a single oil lamp that lit the entirety of the circular cell, but from the looks of it he didn’t seem to notice her presence. _

_ What the hell? _

_ She stepped closer towards the boy, now standing a mere two feet apart from where he lay on a dirty straw mat, his knees drawn to his chest. At the sound of her footsteps, the shadows stopped their spiraling and split directly in half to reveal the rest of the boy dressed in dirt caked rags. _

_ His eyes flew open and his fingers left his ears as his eyes widened at the sight of Jo, clad in her all black assassin suit, mask, and hooded cloak. She looked down at him curiously, but his attention was focused on the shadows that now swirled around her ankles. _

_ Jo was so sure she was gonna jump out of her skin, was this boy a demon of some sort? But for some reason she instead felt a sense of serenity as she found herself enchanted by the wisps, now curling up her arms. The boy looked directly at her now, an expression of half awe and half fear across his features as vibrant hazel eyes met hers. _

_ No matter how sickly and pale he looked, Jo couldn’t deny that the boy was indeed beautiful, she’d never seen anyone like him. _

_ Stop it Jo. You have a mission to complete. This boy could be glamoured, though something told her he wasn’t. _

_ The boy backed further into the wall as he finally took in the sword Jo still held high. _

_ “Pl-please,” he stuttered, his fearful voice cracking in panic as he continued with his arms raised in surrender, “if-if you’re here to kill me, pl-please tell my moth-.” _

_ His mother? How pathetic. _

_ Jo cut him off before he could finish and shoved his limp body up against the hard wall, her sword raised against his throat in warning, causing him to flinch abruptly as she spoke, “I’m not here to kill you, you idiot.”  _

_ “I’ve come to save you,” she lied. Save you from this hell and put you into another one. She didn’t add that of course. _

_ The boy towered over her by at least five inches when he stood, but he made no effort to resist the chokehold she currently held him in, their bodies pressed against the wall.  _

_ “Now tell me who you are before I change my mind,” she demanded, looking straight through his eyes with a piercing gaze. _

_ Don’t get distracted Jo, they’re just eyes, who cares if they’re pretty. He’s the target and he’s dangerous. _

_ “Who are you,” he asked, ignoring her demand. He wasn’t looking at her the way most people did, in fear. Instead, he looked at her as though she intrigued him, as though he could see her very soul and that scared her more than anything. _

_ Jo grunted in frustration.“I asked you first, asshole!”  _

_ The shadows curled by his ear and he raised his dark eyebrows at her curiously, “Nadir.” _

_ What the hell.  _

_ “But that’s not who you truly are is it, Josephine Devereaux,” he continued, still staring at her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t crack. All ounce of the scared boy she saw earlier was gone, he just stared at her with pure curiosity. _

_ Crap, how did he know her name, who she was. And then it clicked. The shadows weren’t just curling around him, they were whispering to him, their master. They served the young boy.  _

_ And then she realized why Orion wanted this boy so badly, because he wasn’t an ordinary boy at all. No, he was a shadowsinger and the only one left at that. _

_ If it were any other person, she would’ve killed them instantly if her cover was blown. Yes Orion would kill her if the target actually died by her hands, but that wasn’t why she slowly lowered her sword and released the boy. That wasn’t why she found herself staring straight at him, the way he was staring at her. That wasn’t why she peeled off her cloak, mask, and gloves layer by layer until she only stood in her suit, her hair braided down her back with strays loosening to frame her fully visible face. _

_ It was like something had taken over her mind, some force. He called to her, she didn’t know why but in that moment she couldn’t stop herself as she lifted her hand and reached out to touch his right cheek so delicately. Jo didn’t know why she did it, but something about this boy made her blood thrum and magic sing. _

_ This time he didn’t flinch at her touch. She felt the shadows, his shadows she should say coil around where their skin touched.  _

_ “Who are you really?” she whispered in a soft voice, one she’d never used with anyone before. _

_ The boy lifted his hand and tucked a strand of her light hair behind her ear in a gentle gesture, and Jo let him. “Azriel,” he whispered back, eyes softening as he leaned into her touch with flushed cheeks.  _

_ She forgot her mission, all about the supposed dangers of this boy. She forgot Orion’s wrath, she forgot everything as all she could do was stare at this boy she just met a moment ago but felt such longing for. “Azriel,” she tested the name on her tongue and his full lips parted as though he was in awe at her.  _

_ No one ever looked at her like that, not even for a second in her miserable life. _

_ They were both breathing heavily and she could hear his soft heartbeat thudding at their proximity. “Don’t I know you, from somewhere?” he asked her quietly, hand coming up to cup her cheek. She didn’t pull away and she felt a shock, a spark that coursed through her at his touch. _

_ What the hell was happening. _

_ Suddenly loud voices bellowed from behind the wooden door that stood across from them in the cell and the pair instantly split apart. _

_ “Go! You have to go now!” Azriel whispered harshly at her, bending down to reach her clothing and stuffing it into her hands. _

_ Jo snapped out of her daze in a flash and started to walk towards where she first entered when Azriel came up behind her and grabbed her wrist gently, spinning her to him. _

_ “Promise me, promise me that you won’t come back Josie, it's not safe” he urged her desperately. _

_ “I can’t.” And then she was gone. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be present times, hope you enjoyed!


	6. The Dreamer

Azriel stormed out of the house, the front door slamming shut behind him, pure fury on his face. All these years she’d been alive, all these years and she hadn’t come to see him, hadn’t wanted to.

Cauldron, she was right in Illyria and she hadn’t bothered, as if he meant nothing to her. No matter how hard Azriel tried to shove down the hurt that flickered through him, it was no use.

Seeing her again, wearing his shirt, Madja must have put it on, and with those beautiful golden eyes of hers looking up at him the way she had the first time they met in that cold cell, it brought back so many emotions, ones he spent centuries suppressing.

He nearly went weak in his knees touching her, feeling her soft skin through the thin material of his faded shirt, hearing her heart beat again nearly sent him over the edge. He wanted so badly for her to reach out and touch him, remembering the first time she hesitantly touched his pale cheek, at a time where he hadn’t been touched like that before and he’d only just met her then.

And just as quickly he had never hated someone so much in that moment when her eyes turned cold, her face, the face of the  _ Nadir _ , the killer, stared at him with fury. And then she demanded he take her back to Illyria, cauldron knows what she’d been up to. He saved her and she didn’t even want to acknowledge him. He was too damn used to anyone not wanting him, being afraid of him, but it never hurt not like it did when Jo did.

Azriel took off in flight towards the river house, he needed to find a way to clear the mess Jo had made. Blindly, so blindly he risked a mission for her, and he’d never felt stupider. Never again would he do that, trying to convince himself she wasn’t worth it, she didn’t even want him anyways.

He disappeared through his shadows, not bothering to use the front door as he appeared directly in front of Rhys and Feyre’s official office. The door opened instantly before he could knock, revealing a very disheveled Feyre, her hair ruffled followed by an equally scruffy Rhys, who was buttoning his coat as he frowned at the spymaster.

“Az, you’re back early, everything alright?” Feyre motioned for him to come inside and the scent that hit him confirmed exactly what the pair had been doing previous to his arrival.

Azriel further entered the large room, a desk sat at the end filled with stacks of paper, though some were now flayed across the floor, leaving an imprint in the middle of the desk,  _ of course. _

Rhys, the bastard noticing Azriel’s focus on the desk, simply smirked at him. “Yes, why are you back so early brother,” he questioned, hands moving to wrap around Feyre who was currently on the floor attempting to clear the mess on the floor with flushed cheeks. 

Rhys instantly snapped his fingers clearing the mess and pulled his mate into his arms, leaning them both against the front of the desk to face Azriel.

Azriel panicked. He’d never lied to Rhys, not when it came to duty, but here he was. “My spies have reported nothing out of the ordinary, it seems the Illyrians in Windhaven were in a brawl at a bar, causing a commotion with a pissed Devlon as they were late for training,” he lied with his usual blank stare. Well, part of it was true, his shadows whispered bits and pieces, the rest he assumed knowing Devlon’s short temperament.

Rhys narrowed his eyes at him as he questioned, “what of the rogue?” Feyre glanced at Azriel in worry, he knew she was afraid of upheaval at the camps.

“Nothing, not a trace,” Azriel lied again, his face remaining stoic to convince them. “I’ll keep an eye out, my shadows have not whispered about a rogue, I assume it’s because whoever it is has kept low. I don’t think it’s anything to be concerned upon for now, it could have very well been a drunk fool causing chaos at a bar.”

Feyre sighed, relief spread across her face and Azriel immediately felt guilty at the lie. “Thank you Azriel,” his High Lady whispered and Rhys rubbed her arms in consolation. 

“Get some rest brother, you’ve done a lot for this court.” Feyre nodded in agreement as she spoke once again, “you must be so exhausted journeying back and forth and you look tired Az, please go rest. I know you’ll let us know if anything is amiss.” She smiled kindly at him and Azriel nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak as guilt consumed him.

“Oh and I think Elain was in need of you, something about your flowers,” Rhys added with a small smirk as Feyre nudged him. 

Azriel stared in confusion. “My flowers?” 

_ He thinks it’s a code word, for something else Master,  _ his shadows whispered at his confusion.

Ariel's eyes widened as he registered his brother’s meaning and immediately tried to shrug his accusation by the only way he knew how. “I think she’s lonely, with Lucien not visiting anymore.”

It was true, Lucien had attempted to seek Elain after the war, but after months of her denying to see him, he simply stopped coming. She needed company and Azriel was happy to provide that for her until she was ready, but the youngest Archeron had refused to speak of the Lucien matter with anyone, so he let her be. He accompanied her on walks and listened to her speak about her flowers, and he too enjoyed her silent company.

Rhys’ expression darkened at the male’s name and Feyre tilted her chin to look up at him. They stared at each other, Azriel knew from the look they were speaking through their bond and took it as his cue to leave. Wanting to clear his mind before he faced what awaited him at his house, or rather who, Azriel took off in flight to the nearest bar. Perhaps Cassian would already be there at Rita’s drunk off his ass, Azriel grinned at the thought.

_______

Josephine stared at the small female who made her way through the front door, dressed in a blush colored gown of a proper lady, with a watering can in hand. Jo was still in Azriel’s room and clutched the walls as she made her way to the bedroom door, clutching it for support.

The pretty female was still humming, a sweet smile on her delicate face as she appeared to be watering the little plants that were scattered across the small living room, making her way around the room as though she’d done it a million times before.

Jo ventured closer, hoping the brunette wouldn’t make her way to Azriel’s room. That would be a very hard situation to explain. She didn’t seem to sense her presence though Jo could see the pointed fae ears visibly. 

_ How odd she thought to herself, the fae are supposed to have heightened senses.  _

Her thoughts were interrupted as her legs bent abruptly, causing her to stumble and hit the door. She caught herself and clutched tightly to the swinging door, drawing the attention of the female who let out a small scream.

_ Oh shit. Way to go Josephine how the hell are you going to explain this one. _

Frightened brown eyes met hers as Jo tried to straighten herself as much as possible. 

“Wh-who are yo-you?” The female questioned with panic as she dropped her watering can and wrapped her arms against her small body, backing further into the corner of the house.

_ Azriel is going to kill me. Oh who the fuck cares he already hates me, here goes nothing _ .

Jo willed her features into a bored smirk as she replied coolly, “oh just a friend of Azriel’s.”

Elain stared at her and then to her attire, or lack thereof. She was still in only Azriel’s black shirt, leaving her bare from the thighs down.

“The  _ evening _ kind of friend,” Jo cleared at the female’s confused stare. Her brown eyes widened in horror and her cheeks turned bright red as she registered Jo’s meaning. “Do y-you um, do y-you need help,” the female asked, recovering from her shock and smoothing her gown while straightening herself.

Jo thought about how she must’ve looked hanging onto the door like a leech. Seeing no other choice, Jo laughed possibly the fakest laugh she heard those courtiers use on drunk fools. “No honey, you know Azriel likes to take time with his-uh partners. I mean the guy’s a total  _ beast _ and not just the battlefield,” she answered lazily. “It just takes a while to uh readjust,” squeezing her thighs together for emphasis while giggling like a ditzy drunk, to the proper female’s utter horror once again.

_ Oh Azriel was definitely going to kill her. _

“Oh, um you know I’m going to go now, I thought he wasn’t home and um yeah I’ll just go now,” the female stuttered and Jo watched curiously as she made her way to the entrance of the small house. And because Jo apparently has the absolute  _ best _ luck in the world, Azriel walks in at the same time the brunette tries to open the door, watering can in hand.

Azriel stared from Jo standing at the bedroom door to the female in front of him looking like a bundle of nerves. 

“Elain, what are you doing here,” Azriel asked gently, so different from how he spoke to Jo moments before, all anger gone replaced with a kind smile. She couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy at the familiarity between the two.

_ Stop it Josephine since when do you get jealous. He can do whatever the hell he wants. _

“Sorry, I just thought I would water your plants but um I didn’t know you’d returned so early,” Elain nervously spoke. “I was just leaving, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you had company.” 

The shadows swirled around Azriel, a few curling by his ears and Jo knew exactly what that meant. It was then that Azriel finally looked up at her in anger,  _ of course _ .

Jo narrowed her eyes at him and simply shrugged,  _ damned shadows _ .

Elain, not noticing their rigid interaction, reached to move past him but Azriel took her small hand and looked down at her. “She’s not...um thank you for coming by, lady. Let me walk you to the estate, it’s dark out.”

Elain shook her head in refusal, looking down at her feet before speaking, “no no you don’t have to do that, I can find my way back.” She rushed out the door and hurried down the pavement before Azriel could say anything more. Jo observed as Azriel watched her leave. Knowing him, he probably would make sure she got home safely, though this was Velaris, a safe haven for most of its citizens. 

Then he turned abruptly to face her and slammed the door shut with a kick of his ankles. “You told her you were a hooker?” he exclaimed furiously.

Jo was mad, she was so angry and frustrated and she let it all out. “Oh hell no you don’t get to do that. Why the fuck does she know about this place anyway? Who’ve you told? And what the fuck was I supposed to say, hi little lady sorry to scare you I’m just a long lost assassin of Prythian who’s beeing held hostage by a damned spymaster,” she huffed before continuing, “is that what I should've said?!”

“HELD HOSTAGE?” Azriel yelled, “I rescue you and bring you into MY house and heal you and you think I’m holding you hostage?”

“I didn’t ask you to save me,” she started but Azriel cut her off. He laughed darkly, “what was I supposed to do then huh? Leave you frozen and half dead in the middle of fucking Illyria.”

“YES!” she replied loudly. She was exhausted and her knees were about to give out, but she didn’t care, there was no way he could come here and shout at her for something she didn’t want in the first place.

Azriel moved closer to her, too close. She could smell the strong brandy off his breath as he put his hands on both sides of the door, caging her and spoke to her sharply, “where they hell have you been Jo. 500 years and you act as if nothing has happened, as if I didn’t-” he sighed, not finishing his sentence and instead turning his face away from her.

Jo stared at him silently. She wanted to reach out and tilt his chin back to her, gods he was beautiful. 

_ If only you knew… _

But he didn’t and she had to make sure it stayed that way. “I thought you didn’t want to know what I was doing,” she stated curtly, eyes narrowing at him. 

He sighed and turned his face back to her and it almost became too much for her, his eyes staring at her in the way he always used to. “Neither of us are in the state to do  _ this _ right now,” lifting his hand off the door to motion between the two of them. But Jo wasn’t listening as her knees finally gave out after standing for so long. Right as she was about to hit the floor, Azriel quickly caught her in one smooth movement, carrying her bridal style into the bedroom,  _ again _ . 

“Put me down right now,” she slapped his chest as she yelled at him. She almost shuddered at the cool feel of his hands underneath her knees. She pressed so close to him, she could hear the thundering of his heartbeat. Not that she would ever admit it, but it calmed her slightly.

He simply ignored her and stared straight ahead, and making his way to the adjoining chamber. “What the hell are you doing?” she questioned and slapped his chest again in annoyance, but he didn’t even flinch. Fuck she was so weak it hurt her more than him, she could barely feel her fucking hand. She winced at the pain in her legs, what the hell she did to them she didn’t know.

“Are you finished?” he asked her coldly before entering the dark chamber which revealed a wide room lit only by an assortment of candles placed throughout. She recognized the room immediately, it looked the same since the last time she’d been in here. The same, single porcelain tub sat in the corner of the room, the ledge and two sinks right across from it. Even the wooden cabinet she used to stuff to the brim with miscellaneous items stood there. 

Azriel didn’t say a word as he brought her to the counter with the two sinks and sat her so her legs were dangling in the air. She kept quiet, pain lancing through her entire body as she leaned back and rested her back on the tiled board next to the rectangular mirror.

Azriel’s shadows swirled around her, as though in comfort and Azriel seemed surprised as he watched them go to her. She shut her eyes then, having no energy to even yell at Azriel more.

She heard the creak of a cabinet opening and shuffling of items. The cabinet shut with a snap and she felt Azriel’s presence come up towards her, setting a vast array of items on the counter in the space right beside her.

“Josie wake up,” he shook her gently, his tone soft.

_ Josie he had called her. _ She opened her eyes and looked to see him kneeling below her. “Your bipolarity is getting on my fucking nerves shadowsinger,” she said with frustration. That seemed to knock his hatred for her back into him as a blank expression came over his face.

“Why are we here anyway,” she asked tiredly, “I’m exhausted just let me sleep and question me tomorrow or whatever the fuck you want from me do it tomorrow. Just let me sleep.”

Azriel remained silent for a few moments before meeting her eyes and motioned to her legs, “you’re bleeding.” She looked down and he was right, blood was seeping through the loose bandages around both her bruised ankles. She sighed and shut her eyes again, too tired to care. She’d had worse after all, this was nothing compared to the others. The glamor she’d placed on her skin in Illyria still held and she was glad Azriel couldn’t see the scars that ravaged her body, she didn’t want his pity.

Neither of them spoke, but Azriel stood up and reached for an item, and then settled back on his knees as he started to unravel the wraps around her ankles. His touch was jolting and she felt the familiar thrum of power that flower through her at his touch, as though her magic was reaching for him. She shuddered, catching Azriel’s attention and the pair locked eyes, his hand still holding her ankle out towards him, resting it on his knee. “This is going to sting,” he stated blankly, ignoring the moment.

Jo didn’t even wince as Azriel applied the salve, the familiar burn seeped through her skin and she welcomed the distraction from her thoughts. She was very well aware her entire legs were on display and thanked the cauldron she was wearing underwear, because she was sure she was flashing some parts but was again too tired to move. 

“She’s your lover?” Jo suddenly asked him with a reserved tone, referring to Elain. There was a pause before he replied, “No, a friend.” Neither of them said a word after that but she couldn’t help but feel a small bolt of joy at his reply.

She opened her eyes and observed Azriel wrap new bandages around both ankles, so gently as though he’d done it many times before, which he had. The scene unlocked memories she was starting to forget, of Az cleaning her cuts, of him icing her bruises from reckless nights of fighting and training. He’d always been there to heal her, to comfort her. And here he was 500 years later doing the same thing no matter how angry he was at her, she knew some things never changed. 

It was for that reason that she let him carry her back to the bed, after dressing and cleaning her legs, let him lay her down gently on the right side of the bed, her preferred side, and pull the covers over her bare legs. She shivered and let the little warmth seep through her. “Wait,” she called and grabbed Azriel’s wrist as he remained hovered over her. “I can-I can sleep on the couch,” she claimed sleepily.

“No, I will,” he replied stoically but Jo stopped him from turning once again. “There’s room for both of us here,” she said softly while shivering under the sheets, “it won’t be weird, just like old times okay?”

Jo felt drunk and drowsy as she released the silent Azriel and couldn’t help the drop of her heart as she watched him leave without saying a word. She rolled onto her side to face the opposite side of the bed and started to close her eyes when she heard the soft crackling of a fire start. 

Heavy footsteps thudded around and she felt a presence,  _ his presence _ , drop onto the empty place opposite her. She watched, her head pounding, as he brought two more blankets and wrapped it around her tightly. The room was dark except for the fire burning brightly, but she could make out those hazel eyes staring at her as he rolled onto his side to face her. Azriel brought the covers up over him, his wings drooping to rest around him.

She felt his stare as his shadows moved across to meet her and rested near her body, swirling silently over her head. She didn’t know why but she felt the need to touch them, to seek their comfort. Jo slowly stretched her hand from beneath the mound of blankets and attempted to reach for a shadow that remained in the middle of Azriel and her.

But it was so dark she accidentally reached too far and touched skin, his skin. She felt him freeze before relaxing as she looked from where her hand rested on his cheek, now sharper and more defined than as a boy, to his eyes which instantly fluttered closed as he made no move to remove her hand, his dark lashes so long they curled to touch his skin when closed.

She was enveloped in his scent of cedar and brandy and felt as though she were in a trance, a dream as she heard those four words come so softly from his lips smoothly, eyes still shut, “just like old times.” 


	7. The Almost Friends

_Azriel watched the curious girl vanish through the walls of his cell in a daze, but was quickly brought back to reality as thundering footsteps blasted through the door. He turned sharply as Ferin and Yreka’s furious faces came into view, Hollis following closely behind his mother and brother, blade in hand._

_“Who were you talking to.” Ferin demanded, shutting the spelled door behind Hollis as he made his way to a frozen Azriel, still standing where Jo left him._

_“N-No one, sire” Azriel forced out with his sickly face lowered in obedience, shadows swirling closer to hide him. Ferin was the cruelest of his two half-brothers and Azriel couldn’t risk showing any sorts of disrespect, he’d learned the hard way._

_“Hmmm,” mused Hollis as he took a step forward, tossing the sharp blade from hand to hand._

_“Look at that brother, the boy’s grown some guts.” Ferin let out a twisted laugh as Hollis walked closer and Azriel watched the blade bounce between his nimble fingers, mentally preparing for what he knew would come next._

_Yreka simply watched her sons with a bored expression as they stalked towards Azriel in unison. Ferin shoved Azriel on his knees and held him down, nodding at Hollis. He cocked his head and let out a small laugh, noticing Azriel force his head down with no resistance. “Well, I guess not very big ones.”_

_“Get a rag you fools, the last thing we need are those damn Windhaven guards poking around here.” Yreka finally spoke with an annoyed glance at her sons._

_“No mother, let him scream, father got some witch that soundproofed the cell,” Ferin replied curtly as Hollis, clearly delighted by this new arrangement, tossed a second blade to Ferin._

_Azriel knew what would happen next and he couldn’t do a thing as Ferin slowly dragged the iron blade down his left wing. He squeezed his eyes shut as pain lanced his entire body, wings twitching at the contact of the sharp end. His body shook as Hollis brought the second blade to his chin, tilting the knife so that he was forced to look up towards him._

_Hollis leaned down and whispered into his ears. “Do you remember the flames you piece of shit?” He kicked his boot into Azriel’s shin when he didn’t reply, eyes remaining shut. “Look at me!”_

_Azriel squeezed his eyes tighter, a small scream was forced out of his throat as Ferin retracted the blade and carved his other wing, a line of blood trailing from the tip to the center. “He asked you a question you filthy bastard, answer him!”_

_Azriel shivered as the cold air seeped into his sliced wings and answered, his words a meek reply, “ye-yess sire.” Only yesterday Hollis had brought a torch into the cell, using the light from the flames to scatter his shadows away from him. They never liked the light, abandoning Azriel at the first burning light of the flames._

_“Look, your pathetic friends have abandoned you. Do you know why,” Hollis questioned, applying more pressure onto the blade that was still pressed against his chin, “because you’re pathetic too, even your mother doesn’t want to see you, too busy whoring herself around like the slut she is.”_

_Azriel fought Ferin’s grip and tried to contain himself. He felt his anger rise at the mention of his mother, the only person who loved him. He felt the primal rage of his Illyrian blood attempt to breathe for air, but he shoved them down. This is what they wanted, to get a rise out of him._

_But no matter how hard he tried to simmer the building of his temper, Azriel couldn’t stop his large wings from flaring across the expanse of the cell and his eyes from opening, pure fury overtaking his vision as they suddenly met Yreka’s wicked eyes straight ahead, intrigued by his change in mannerism._

_Hollis let out a deep chuckle. “Don’t like hearing about mommy hmmm,” he taunted. Ferin shook his head, grabbing Azriel's face to meet his. “You are nothing boy, you are nothing more than a slimy bastard and will never be worth a damn, you understand?”_

_Hollis turned his blade to Azriel’s right hand and carved a path down his forearm in warning. “He said do you understand?”_

_“I understand,” came the curt reply from Azriel’s bloody lips, where Hollis previously cut his top lip when titling his chin up. “Then say it.” Azriel knew what he meant, what he wanted him to say. His face held no emotion as he slowly lowered his eye contact from Yreka’s amused eyes and looked to the mud stricken floor of his cell, his home. “I am nothing. I am nothing more than a slimy bastard and I will never be worth a damn.”_

_Satisfied with his response, Ferin removed both his and Hollis’ blades where they pierced Azriel’s skin, twin slices on his forearms. “Chain him,” commanded Yreka’s bored voice from across the cell, apparently the show had not been interesting enough for her._

_Ferin, ever the compliant son, dragged Azriel to where his straw mat lay as Hollis brought the iron chains that were attached to the floor on both sides of the mat and clasped them to each end of Azriel’s wrists. He failed from flinching at Hollis’ rough touch, to which Hollis only grinned in delight, knowing just how much power he held over his bastard brother. Ferin then grabbed Azriel's numb wings and tightly bound them together with a rope. He knew it was so they wouldn't be able to provide body heat and to sustain the injuries for as long as possible._

_Azriel immediately slumped to the floor, the force of his weight scraping his knees against the harsh texture of straw, though it was better than the grim and mud that lay beneath. His hands rested limply and he felt his eyes falter shut out of habit when suddenly he felt a stabbing pain in his gut._

_Ferin smirked as his boot met Azriel’s chest before dragging a cackling Hollis out the door, followed by Yreka who looked slightly more satisfied when she glanced at Azriel’s limp body and bounded wings. She was halfway out the door before she looked to him and uttered with pure disdain, “worthless son of a whore.”_

_With that she slammed the door, the force snuffing out the sole candle that lit his dim cell. Azriel sighed, glad that at least they were gone. His wings ached, the wounds taking so long to heal, he knew that they would scar but he didn’t care, what was another scar anyways._

_He winced as he twisted his arms to assess the damage, fresh blood was still dripping from both hands. He would just have to let his body heal itself, there was no way to rip what was left of his rags with his hands chained. He knew better than to yank on them, the enchanted cuffs would only tighten around his wrists should he tamper with it._

_This was mild compared to the other times and hell if he wasn’t grateful that he only had cuts and a few bruises. He tried to convince himself that he was used to the pain, he’d had much worse from them after all. But the ache wouldn’t stop and his wings hung limply and Azriel could only watch as the blood drops fell to his skin in splatters._

_He was tired of it, this unending cycle of misery, but what else was he good for? Azriel loved his mother more than anything and yet he had burdened her by simply existing. Because of him, she was probably stuck working her ass off in the kitchens of his father’s keep. Because of him, she has to endure his father’s wrath everyday._

_He let his thoughts wander to the only thing that had crossed his mind since his brothers entered the cell. The girl, the Nadir. He didn't know who the hell she was, but when she touched his cheek, Cauldron he felt a power in him that seemed to rejoice at her touch. He felt his shadows sing and dance in what he believed to be curiosity but now reckoned to be something more, though he didn't know what._

_He only knew they'd never behaved like that before, opting to scatter away when anyone else came into his cell. Suddenly, his wings twitched. This part was always the hardest, controlling his urges. The urge to take off in flight was unnerving._

_Azriel couldn’t take it anymore. He tried to scream in frustration, but no sound formed from his throat. Nothing but silence filled the cell._

_And in that moment, Azriel prayed to whatever Gods existed beyond this world, to whatever higher being would listen. He begged for what he didn’t know, just anything but this. He prayed to see his mother, to see that she was safe. He prayed as much as the last of his conscience would allow him to, for anything, even death was better than this, perhaps then his mother would be safe._

_It was then that the whispers started again. At least when his brothers came, the shadows went away, disappearing throughout the cell and away from him. But they always came back with their incessant whispers._

_He couldn’t see them in the pitch dark atmosphere, but he knew they were coming towards him, and could feel their energy gravitate. They were chanting something but he couldn't make it out, he didn’t have the energy to._

_Azriel tried to close his ears, that always helped, but he forgot his arms were restrained and the shackles tighten around him in consequence. Sometimes he couldn’t tell if they were his friend or foe, he decided they were his almost-friends._

_He pleaded with the shadows to go away, but they refused. The chanting grew louder in his ears and this time he could make out what they were saying, or rather what they were showing him._

_A bright ray of light filled his vision as the shadows swarmed closer. Not light he realized, but gold, golden everything. He reached out his head towards the brightness, desperate to look closer. He felt an odd tug at his heart but he ignored it as the light vanished just as quickly as it came._

_His shadows circled so close, he was fairly certain if anyone walked in, he would’ve been entirely camouflaged. He could feel the darkness coming to claim him now and he would welcome it with open arms. Azriel felt his eyes dropping shut as the pain seared his body in agony, but he could make out a single word the shadows repeatedly sang, as though lulling him to sleep with a prayer of their own just as he was doing moments ago, “Josephine.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Azriel's hands haven't been burned and scarred yet, but it is coming soon. Sorry for the wait, I will try to upload more consistently!

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is very short as it's more of an introduction, I have a lot planned for this fic but it's the first one I've ever written so bear with me here :) I love Azriel so much and wanted to give him his own little story. (Disclaimer: my oc character is highly inspired by Celaena's story from TOG because I've low key shipped her character with Azriel). I can't wait to share this story with everyone, hope you enjoy, and I promise it gets better. Comments and kudos are always appreciated!!


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